Downpour
by ILoveJorja
Summary: Grissom and Sara get caught in the rain. Smut and humor.
1. Chapter 1

**DOWNPOUR**

**CSI/GSR/smut. Sara and Grissom get caught in the rain. Romance/Humor. Rated M. **

**A/N: Oh, no. Another WIP! What am I thinking? But this one would not leave me alone. One chapter to go. Reviews welcome!**

**Chapter One**

It never rains in Nevada. It pours. Oh, man, it pours.

Grissom had Sara accompany him to a lonely desert stretch of nothing much...just a skeletal DB with some vague suspicious circs. It was a black midnight-black night with a snow field of stars above them. Miles from any highway. Not a soul other than the two of them. Cold and dark. Windswept. The darkness seemed to stick to their faces.

Grissom hadn't asked for her help in weeks and they were wary of each other. Sara was wary _all _the time, it seemed to both of them. She had decided that the ball was in his court and if he wanted to pursue..._this_...it was his call. Yet. They missed the close work partners they'd been...the easy flirting camaraderie they'd had...how long ago that seemed. They both did. But could not talk about it.

It seemed easier to Sara to just edge away and ignore that magnetic pull that was Gil Grissom, at least until Grissom got his shit together. Meanwhile he was feeling like a bumbling oaf, and so kept his words to a minimum.

So. Personal space was strictly enforced. Conversation forced. Body movements jerky and awkward. Grissom kept fidgeting, clearing his throat, drawing a breath as if to speak and then seemingly changing his mind. Generally working on her last nerve. _If he starts to say something, something patronizing or condescending, I'm outta here,_ she thought to herself.

Sara sighed deeply and forced her attention to the case and not the aggravating male specimen standing exactly three feet away.

Grissom, on the other hand, was doing his oblivious act. He felt the waves of annoyance rolling off his young protegee but couldn't formulate a way to address it, for the life of him. Then his attention was drawn to the night sky–the stars were disappearing under an enveloping cloud cover. The darkness deepened.

Sara sighed again. Now he was staring at the sky. She might as well be one of the cacti for all the attention he was paying her.

"Just you wait, Henry Higgins, just you wait," she bitterly half sang, half whispered under her breath.

"Pardon?" Grissom said with forced courtesy.

"Nothing." Sara turned away and took a few brisk steps into the blackness. Grissom stared after her. She seemed to fade away like a ghost, and anxiety sprang up in his gut. Grissom took a step in her direction, then another, all the while nervously twisting his camera strap in both hands. He felt an irrational fear that she might take one too many steps and vanish...forever. He peered into the blackness after her. His thoughts were jumbled under the stress of the situation, mixed up with his confused attempts to rebuild the shattered rapport between them, doubling his anxiety.

Grissom was trying, he really was, but his skills with the opposite sex were sketchy on a good day. His mind insisted (for no apparent reason) that she might be a flight risk...in that mood she'd been in lately, Sara was unpredictable and...well, skittish. Not only that but.._.it was so dark!...so eerily dark out here! __Miles from anyone and anything_.

She was all in black too, he rationalized to himself, dark navy jacket, black shirt, black pants along those long slender legs, dark watchcap...so she looked about ready to disappear into deep space.

Again he stepped toward her, noting but not reacting to her flinch of annoyance under his silent scrutiny. Sara huffed a breath and spun around.

"What!"

Grissom looked dumbfounded. "What?"

"Are you checking up on me?"

Grissom gaped at her. "Huh?"

"Don't 'huh' me. Why are you dogging my steps?"

"I wasn't..."

"I know I haven't worked with you in..._ages_," Sara said sarcastically, "but do you doubt my abilities now?"

"Not in the slightest," Grissom said firmly.

There was a pause.

"All right then," she said grudgingly, taking a few steps away and looking intently at the ground with her miniature flashlight.

Grissom turned away with a jerk and started his own careful inspection of the dusty ground surrounding the bony remains of the unfortunate soul.

Her bootsteps crunched away and faded. Silence. The wind had dropped and the flat desert was utterly silent. Grissom felt the oppressive silence acutely. It hadn't been long since his surgery, and he was wary of relapses. _What if she gets lost? And if I can't hear her call for me? If she falls in some hole–and yells for help? And I can't hear her? What then?_

"Sara?" His voice was pinched. When she didn't respond, he yelled louder. "Sara?"

A crunch of gravel in the distance...where?...Grissom stumbled in that direction, still calling her name.

All of a sudden she was standing in his flashlight beam, her features guarded.

"Grissom?"

"_There _you are." Grissom hurried up to her, relief all over his face. "I...I couldn't...I couldn't _find_ you," he said breathlessly. A tentative hand stretched toward her.

Hope bloomed in her weary heart. _Why does he look so glad to see me? I wasn't gone that long...was I?_ His anxiety seemed to drift into her and grow.

"Grissom? Are you okay? Are you feeling all right?" she approached and gently touched his hand, watching him carefully. A jolt ran up his arm. Sara pulled it away hastily, feeling a jolt too. They looked at each other for long minutes.

"I...I'm fine, Sara," he said at last, heavily, resignedly. _It's too late. Too late. It's all my fault._ "Just...peachy."

He looked so lost that Sara's heart jumped. "What...what's wrong?" Her breath caught.

The moment was broken by a fat wet drop on his forehead, quickly followed by another, and another. A desert downpour. The skies opened. Sara gasped and pulled her jacket over her head, but was still drenched in seconds. Grissom was nearly blinded by the curtains of rain beating down on him and sliding icily down his neck. He shivered violently.

Though standing a mere foot apart, it was like trying to see each other through a waterfall! Sara started to curse, then distractedly watched as his clothes darkened to black and stuck to his body, water comically streaming off his face and bearded chin, hair plastered down...and started to laugh. It was too much. Just the expression on his face! and that set her off again, deep, hearty, belly laughs of relief and amusement. Grissom looked stunned a moment...then he started to laugh too. He laughed that rare Grissom laugh.

"You look like a drowned rat!" he yelled over the storm.

"Me?" Sara's face split in a grin. She pointed at his face. "You should see what you look like!" Her voice rose as another laugh took over.

Grissom grabbed her, the better to hear her. Sara grinned at his drenched face. She leaned into him to yell in his ear. "Let's..." her voice faded.

"What?" he yelled.

"Get out of the **RAIN!**" she bellowed.

Grissom just smiled and took her wet hand.

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**DOWNPOUR**

**Chapter Two**

**A/N**: Hey! I know you're reading...press the button and tell me, please? Tell me what you think?

**CSI/GSR Smut/Romance/Humor.** Grissom and Sara get caught in the rain.

Luckily the Denali was only a few yards away. The cold and wet had gone into their bones and Grissom took little time to start the engine and blast warm air in the cabin. Then he turned and looked at Sara, really looked at her for the first time...in ages. Sara was pulling her long fingers through her strands of hair, leaning forward to get the heat into her scalp. Her chestnut hair was curling more and more by the minute, replacing that drab ironed out look with natural beauty. She didn't notice Grissom's attentive look for a long time, then glanced at him.

"Are we going? Back to the lab?" she asked easily, matching his regard with a steady look into his eyes. Her eyes softened when she saw his longing.

"No." His voice was steady as well. "I don't want to go back to the lab."

Now that was something she never expected to hear from his lips, those perfectly formed and enticing lips, she thought hazily, trying but failing to stop a longing glance at the lips in question. Her heart thawed.

Grissom was mesmerized by the look of her in the dimness, lit softly by the dashboard lights, combing her fingers through her hair as he had longed to do so many times...her look of steady determination, her honey-dark eyes, the inquiring arch of that delicate eyebrow, her oval face, her...everything about her was just so...beautiful. _Beauty, Grissom, remember?_ echoed in his mind. His eyes were drawn to her lips. Then back to her eyes. Again and again. Just a quick movement across the distance, a tilt of the head, and their lips would be joined...at last.

He'd never stopped admiring her; the perfection of her skin, her lean lines, her quick mind, her symmetrical perfection ..he wouldn't be a man if he didn't, along with most of the lab. Her spitfire nature could be arousing as well, even if he was the recipient of her withering words, her cutting remarks and reproaches. He just wanted to kiss the sarcasm from her mouth, kiss away all the anger and resentment, though he knew he was the cause of it.

"I don't ever want to go back to the lab," Grissom said, without thinking. The words just came out, easily, naturally, for once. "I want to...I want to make things right, between us, again." The last was said with a deepened tone of regret and sorrow.

"What...what are you saying, Grissom?" Sara's bruised heart could not dare to hope, not yet, not yet.

"I want to get you out of those wet clothes," he answered, unthinking of the double meaning.

Sara snickered. Grissom backtracked. "I mean...uh..."

"I know what you mean," she said with a smirk. "I'd like to get you out of those wet clothes as well." There was no mistaking her meaning at that. Her face changed, growing more determined, more confident, more in control of the situation than she had felt since that disastrous dinner invitation, years before. Grissom sucked in a breath and sat back. They looked at each other, both thinking hard.

Sara sneezed.

Grissom sprang into action, buckling his belt, shifting into gear and speeding away across the dark wet desert. Sara grabbed the door handle and fumbled into her seatbelt as well, smiling to herself.

"My place is closer," he said at last, as if picking up the thread of a conversation. "I'm sure I have...sweats or something you can change into."

"Take me home, Grissom. My home...I can throw our things in the washer."

Grissom shot her a look from the corner of his eye, saw her confident expression, and agreed with a silent nod. In minutes, it seemed, they were nearing the bright lights of the big city, then turning away to the nice suburbia that contained Sara's apartment. The two homes were not far apart- Sara had made sure of that when she first moved to Vegas. Of course his was a roomy townhouse and hers a humble apartment, but they were both comfortable to their inhabitants, a welcomed sanctuary of private space.

Grissom pulled into a parking space and killed the engine. Sara timidly patted the hand resting on his knee.

"Thank you," she said in a shy voice. Grissom gave her a tiny smile and crinkled his eyes. They hurried indoors, the rain still pouring down on them.

Sara unlocked the door with shaky hands, fumbling and planning with desperate thoughts how to keep her elusive entomologist from running away with her feelings again. _Time for desperate measures_, she thought. _Whatever it takes._ _Commence Operation Seduce Grissom, _she smirked to herself.

"I'll start some coffee," she stated, striding away and leaving Grissom to enter and look around his surroundings. Get his bearings. Her movements were quick and practiced and the water was dripping into the carafe in a few seconds. The aroma was welcoming.

She turned to see Grissom frozen in place, looking uncertain. He had taken only a single step inside and his face was full of doubt. He hadn't even closed the door.

Sara smirked and reached behind him, brushing his arm with her body lightly. She was pleased to feel his body respond with a shiver, his hands rising and then stopping. The click of the door seemed to rouse him from his thoughts.

"I...I don't want to get your floor all wet," he said hesitantly.

"No worries. I already have," she answered, pointing to the wet footprints. Without another word she crouched and began to unlace her boots while Grissom admired her easy grace and the curve of that long sinuous back. She unzipped her jacket as she stood, leaving it to drip from a hook and slipping off the sopping boots and placing them neatly by the door, Grissom watching all the while.

She turned and looked at him, still in his sodden clothes, his hair curly and dark from the rain. He looked a little lost, she thought, and seemed ready to turn and bolt if startled. Sara slid her hand down the same arm and grasped his hand, tugging him further into the apartment. He followed obediently. She turned him to her and sensuously slid the zipper of his windbreaker down, pushing the sleeves from his arms and letting it drop in a heap behind him. She crouched again and unlaced and removed his boots, tugging on the laces that were swollen and stubborn with the rain. Still kneeling, she looked slowly up the length of his body, pausing at the crotch, which was conspicuously bulging. It would be easy to reach up and free that erection, stroke him and slide it into her welcoming mouth, but she knew he needed to make the decision himself. He would yield, but might doubt his surrender later, maybe push her away and that couldn't happen. Not now. Not with everything falling into place. Not with his eyes on her, his expression open and lusting. _Last chance._ _My last best chance._

Then she stood and stepped back and regarded him, a trace of nerves making her tremble. She felt the importance of this moment, a fear of doing the wrong thing or saying the wrong words to spoil what could be a turning point in their relationship. A shaky breath, in and out, and then her trembling fingernails lightly brushed the soft skin of his cheek and slid down his bearded chin. His eyes widened and a hesitant hand grasped hers and squeezed it. They both sucked in a breath, nothing in their eyes but a hesitant desire.

With a step back and a steadying breath she drew her trembling hands to the buttons of her black shirt, undoing them one by one with an ease she did not feel, never looking away from those longing eyes. He was still but his mind was whirling. When her shirt was open to the waist he sucked in a breath and hesitantly spoke.

"Sara."

She pulled her shirt untucked and undid her cuffs. Sara let it fall open, her eyes imploring and soft.

"Sara, don't." His mind was screaming, his body responding. At war with himself. "Sara, no. It's..."

"It's what, Grissom?" Sara demanded. "Tell me...tell me what I'm doing...what is happening here...tell me... what I do to you." He sucked in a breath and his mouth dropped open, eyes wide with...fear, maybe? Sara shifted to stand on one leg and then the other, sliding off her wet socks and tossing them behind him, then stood with her shoulders back and down, arching her back a little to emphasize the perfection of her rounded breasts held securely in a black lace bra. When he said nothing else her hands resumed the careful removal of her clothing, shedding her shirt and then reaching behind to unhook her bra.

Grissom stirred at that and stepped closer, his eyes drawn to her flawless skin, the dimple of her belly button, the smooth creaminess of her skin drawing him in. A hesitant hand reached out and stilled her movements.

"Sara. Please. Please stop..." he begged. "I...I...don't..."

"No, Grissom. I won't stop. I have to...have to know. If I have a chance." Her voice dropped and deepened. "Do I?"

"Do you what?"

"Do I have...? A chance? A hope that...you feel the same? That you desire me?" Her slender fingers reached behind again, this time unhooking the bra. She dropped her hands and twitched a shoulder, making the strap slide down her arm and the cup fall away from one perfect breast. Her arm slid across her body and removed the other strap, pulling it off and letting it drop at their feet.

Her eyes were fiery, daring and bold. Daring him. Taunting him. Sara's nipples were puckered and pinched with cold, a light pink blush spreading upwards from them to her long neck and reddening her cheeks. She forced herself to stand still and wait for the decision to be made. Though she longed to close the distance between them and encircle his waist and shoulders with her arms, longed to kiss him senseless, stroke him with clever fingers–she would wait. And wait some more.

Grissom cleared his throat, trying to take back the control that had shifted to her. He had to say something, fast, before this went too far, too fast...

"I'm not...I don't..."

"What?" Now she was angry, on the brink of humiliating herself, feeling exposed...her lips drew into a thin line, eyes hardened, and so she stepped forward until her chest was a hair's breadth from his, both chests heaving with emotion and uncertainty. She bent her head, leaned forward, and blew a warm breath in his ear, noting with delight the shiver that resulted, the goosebumps that were sprinkled down his sturdy neck. Sara moved her mouth there and gently licked the smooth skin of his throat and neck. She drew the flesh in between her lips and nibbled it gently, caressingly, and touched her tongue to the dancing pulsepoint throbbing in his neck. His breath caught and seized. A deep moan escaped, despite a conscious attempt to choke it in his throat.

His heart pounded in his chest, threatening to burst from aching ribs. He felt both numb and blindingly aware of the beauty offered to him, so willing and warm. As warm as her lips felt dancing across his vulnerable throat.

Sara released the skin of his neck and stepped back again. Her eyes were dark and confident again. Challenging. There was no doubt that her touch had awakened the man before her. His baggy pants tented with a hardness that longed to be freed. He licked his lips. Drew a thumb across them. His eyes were wide.

Again her hands moved to herself, this time slowly and teasingly opening the button of her wet sticky jeans, then slowly drawing down the zipper. A foot moved forward to steady herself as she shimmied her hips and pushed the sodden trousers to the floor. She stepped out of them with one movement of her slender long leg. And slid warm hands down the length of her body, stroked herself once, twice, then Sara hooked her fingers in her simple black undies before daring another look in this man's face. His jaw was set, eyes approaching anger and lips in a thin line. The bottom lip pushed out in an endearing pout, undermining his expression of determination.

"Sara." His voice was rough. "Sara. Stop."

She froze. _This is it._ Time seemed to stop.

The black against that creamy skin gave a startling contrast. There she stood, taunting him with her flawless beauty, offering paradise without a word spoken. Could he? Could he shatter this moment? Break her heart...again? Refuse her? No. Not again. Not ever again.

Grissom stirred and squared his shoulders with determination. He could not let her down again. He'd loved her for so long, so many aching lonely years, read her signals, treasured her every touch and soft word, responded to every soft doe-eyed look with a tender-eyed look of his own, played with her heart for the last time. It was time.

Grissom's hands rose and cupped her face. He stepped into her inner circle and caressed her cheeks with such reverence that she trembled. Her heart swelled and beat with a firmness like jungle drums. He was coming closer. Hope soared. He was looking at her lips again, agonized doubt visibly choked off; he looked at her lips with adoration. And drew her mouth to his for a single, heart-stoppingly aching, tender, soft, sweet, perfect kiss. Sara melted like chocolate. Her sweet tongue darted out and touched his yielding lips, and they both moaned. His mouth welcomed her swirling, exploring tongue, squeezing it between his hot lips and sucking gently.

Sara gasped. As many times as she had dreamed and day dreamed this moment, the emotions awakened and the perfection of how their lips fit was beyond description. Beyond words. There was nothing, no one, nothing to compare it to. The kiss deepened naturally, without effort or thought, a maelstorm of deeply buried desires roaring up from their hearts and out their mouths into the one of their partner's. There was no turning back. No doubt lingered.

Grissom swept her into his brawny arms, sliding his hands with thanksgiving across that skin, that silken, welcoming skin. She was warm and wonderful and real. This was real. Really happening. His conscious thought twitched to a last stumbling awareness.

"Sara? Are...are you sure? Really sure?"

"Yes, Gil." He shivered at her use of his given name, in her throaty purr a seduction in itself. _Yes. _**Yes. **_**Yes.**_

His arms grasped her by the hips and lifted. Like a moth she rose, tender and soft and compliant, jumping without hesitation into his arms, her legs encircling his hips and locking around his back. She tightened and thrust into the feel of that hard cock, that stiff cock that twitched in anticipation.

"Where...?" he asked desperately, breathlessly.

She pointed with a tilt of the head to a closed door down the narrow hallway. A chink of daylight shone from under the door, welcoming and inviting.

Grissom staggered in the direction of that sunlight as his mouth fell to hers again, pushing itself powerfully to hers, demanding and seeking her to yield. She did, with a sigh of satisfaction, letting her mouth open and welcome his seeking tongue, sucking it avidly. Warm and wet. With a sweet promise of what was to come.

The phone rang.

TBC

A/N: Ooh, ain't I mean? Tease! I'm having too much fun with this story, and this chapter is getting too long...more to come! hee hee


	3. Chapter 3

**DOWNPOUR**

**Chapter Three**

**Grissom and Sara get caught in the rain. GSR. M.**

**A/N** That has to be the longest interval ever between a ringing telephone and an answer! It's been interesting getting your requests, then demands, then quavering, desperate pleas for an update…I think I've gotten more requests for this to be finished than any story before now. I know at least one of you is ready to thrash me for leaving you in suspense for…what is it, 2 years and 4 months! Do I have an excuse? Sure. Many. I've forgotten and changed my mind a dozen times on where I was going with the story, for one thing. If you take a wander over to CSI Forever Online (gotta plug that at every chance) you can see a big one, the 7,000 contributions and counting I've made there, which takes up a chunk of my free time. When this story was started the site was on wetpaint not wikifoundry, that's how long it's been. The CSIFO Facebook Group was a couple dozen of us—now it's almost 600 members and it's bustling with activity. It's been so long that my computer has gone through hiccups and reboots and a hard drive erasure and reinstall. So I couldn't even find a copy of the doc file…until I scrabbled through my floppy discs (yes I still use that arcane technology) and found my one last copy, and that was in Open Freely, a word processing software that apparently thinks quotation marks and contractions should be translated into gibberish. So after I found it I had to clean that up. And what is my impetus to finally get off my ass and finish this little tale? Calim11's Fan Fiction Challenge on Extreme Weather on CSIFO, which is due in oh, about an hour and a half. Extreme Weather, Downpour, seemed like a good excuse to git er done. I just have to add her prompts (can't change the opening line) and figure out the ending. And so, without much more blathering on…will someone answer the damn phone!

The phone rang again. The amorous pair flinched and stilled in place. Instead of happily tumbling into bed for some down and dirty sweaty sex, reality and duty had butted in. At the third ring, Grissom reluctantly let Sara's legs slide to the ground. Grumbling, they backtracked to their respective piles of sodden clothes. Sara found her cell phone insistently trilling and buzzing in a jacket pocket.

"Sidle." A heavy, despondent voice. _So close!_

"Sara!" a cheery, all too cheery voice responded. "What's cooking, good looking? " Sara rolled her eyes and cursed his timing in her head. _Not now!_ She turned and mouthed _Greg_ to Grissom.

"Greg, hey, I uh, I wasn't expecting you to call."

"Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!" he chirped, then launched into a monologue on everything that had happened (which wasn't much) since they'd seen each other last.

Still holding the phone, Sara tried to cover herself from the air conditioned drafts on her naked damp skin. Grissom found her a bath towel and awkwardly wrapped it around her, and she smiled at him. He found another for his waist and wandered off to the kitchen for a welcome mug of hot coffee. She half listened to Greg's rambling, saying "Uh huh?" and "Oh, really," at regular intervals. Outside there was the occasional clap of thunder and a steady pounding, beating rhythm of rain.

Sara gathered the soaking, dripping clothes one-handed and trekked back and forth putting them in her compact washing machine that was hidden in a closet. She added another half load of laundry that was piled next to it, poured in detergent, and cranked it to start. All the while keeping the slippery phone from squirting away from between her neck and shoulder. Meanwhile Greg was babbling on.

"It's too quiet without you and the bugman around, Sara, and I'm bored. Somebody left a copy of this book..was it you?...called _One Hundred Years of Solitude_ so I've been reading that. Kinda freaky. This Colonel guy stays in his lab all day making little gold fishes and stringing them on necklaces. Sounds like he loses his marbles after a while. I can relate, you know, sitting in this lab all day—nobody to talk to. Just vials and microscopes and machines. No action. Nobody around. So anyway, where are you guys? Still out with that skeleton?"

"No, no, David packed up the bones and took them away a while ago. We looked for evidence—but there wasn't anything. Not a scrap. So with no evidence to bring back…we didn't hurry. I'm not coming back in just to clock out. And," Sara briefly considered whether or not to tell the truth or make up a story. "And it started raining. I mean, pouring down. And we got caught in the downpour!" She chuckled and Greg joined in. Grissom smirked at her from the kitchen island. "We were both soaked."

"You and Grissom?"

"Yes, Greg."

"So…." He trailed off suggestively.

Sara rolled her eyes again. "He dropped me off here, at my apartment. I'm getting some dry clothes."

"Uh huh." She could almost see him waggling his eyebrows. "And is Grissom helping you out of your wet clothes?"

"Hanging up now, Gregory."

"But…"

"Bye, Greg."

Sara snapped the phone shut and tossed it. She joined Grissom in the kitchen and pouted. He smirked at her expression and nudged her in a friendly way. Sara looked up at him through her hair and tried to figure out his mood. And what to do next.

"Uh."

"Um, can I get you anything? Hot soup, maybe?"

"Soup? Not right now thanks. Good coffee. Want some?" He poured her a cup. They sipped, each lost in thought.

"So that was Greg," Grissom said.

"Yes."

"And he knows we got caught in the rain and stopped here." She nodded at him. "Nicely handled, Miss Sidle, you told the truth just up to the point where it…"

"Where it was nobody's business," she supplied, her expression brightening.

"Right."

"Gris? Uh, since we don't have to go back to the lab, or to a scene, and shift ends…" she glanced at the clock over his shoulder "…in half an hour. What happens now?"

He nodded inscrutably. Opened his mouth and then snapped it shut.

Sara sighed tiredly. _Back to the goldfish impersonation. _She took a deep drink of coffee, gathered her thoughts, and gathered her courage once again.

"If that phone hadn't rung…if Greg wasn't so ADD that he can't keep himself occupied for a few hours," she grumbled, "we would be happily romping in bed right now."

Grissom raised an eyebrow and then nodded, his eyes, like hers, showing disappointment.

"I think you and I…" she bravely stroked his arm. "You and I are good together. I think we…" She let her fingers trail down to his hand and play with it. She curled and uncurled his fingers and stroked his palm. He sucked in a breath at her gentle touch and she did it again, cataloguing his reaction. "Earlier you said…"

"Yes?" he said huskily.

"You said you wanted to fix this, whatever it is, between us."

He nodded.

"Do you? I mean, do you still want to…make this right?"

"I do. Before we were so…rudely interrupted, I thought we made some progress."

Sara grinned at him. She let her fingers walk up his arm and tickle his neck and he shivered. He grabbed her around the waist impulsively and they kissed. Still not feeling the headlong passion of earlier, Sara broke away, smiling shyly. She found her remote and turned on the sound system, clicking through selections before letting a chosen one play. The sounds of guitars and hand drums and quiet singing helped smooth the awkward silences.

Grissom came up behind her and held her gently, lightly, to his body. His head dropped into the hollow of her neck and he kissed it softly, making her shiver and lean back into his arms.

"What's this?" he mumbled into her skin. "Who's playing?"

"Blackbird Sunset," she replied. "The Romantic."

"Nice." They swayed a little, loosening up. Grissom kissed up to her ear and then leaned his head to the other side and kissed and licked her sensitive neck. He let his fingers trail along the edge of her towel and she reached behind and stroked his curly hair. Another song started and Sara turned in Grissom's arms and kissed his lips sweetly. He held her head tenderly and returned it, deepening it slowly and steadily. The temperature rose. Sara could feel her nerve endings sizzling. She felt blissful and excited. Grissom continued to kiss her, feeling confident, feeling tremendously alive and grateful and wanting more.

With little effort, he untucked Sara's towel and let it drop. Reverently he stroked her silky skin, exploring her body and gazing at her. Sara let her hands run over the muscles of his back and shoulders, over his smooth chest, touching and exploring in turn. When she was nude again she removed his towel as well. She dipped her hand and felt his erection, felt it jump at the first contact. Grissom was stroking her breasts and squeezing them. Sara grasped his erection and stroked it languidly, exploring the sensitive head with her fingertips. Grissom thrust his hips involuntarily and groaned. He pulled her hands away and gripped them apart, so they could see each other completely, exposed, but not afraid. He backed up and she followed, up the hall and back into the bedroom, looking into each other's eyes with love and desire.

"Will you be mine, Sara?" he said almost giddily.

"As long as you'll have me," she answered, grinning wickedly.

They tumbled into bed again. And this time there were no interruptions.

**THE END**


End file.
